


Red Planet for a Red Soul

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Series: Transcendence AU in Space [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 03:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: Maybe this is what she deserves.Partially inspired by this chapter of Tales of a Dreambender!https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709113/chapters/19221721#workskin





	Red Planet for a Red Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Potentially triggering content - scroll to endnotes for further details.

                Three white walls. Two black chairs. A single grey table.

                Through the one-way glass, Director Jaqla watches as her warding team sweeps the area for a final time, blue lights blinking on their magi-orbs as they test the chalk lines. She can hear them talking - “Section clear!” one says, then “Section clear!” another says, then “Section clear!” says another, again and again and again until the words stop sounding like words to her.

                “Section clear!”

                “Section clear!”

                This is bound to be an interesting interview.

                She grits her teeth and looks down at the walls of text on her magi-tablet. The time in the corner reads ‘03:20.’ “Section clear!” Shouts a warder, and she resists the urge to rub her burning eyes.

                At a door to her right, there’s a knock.

                “Director?”

                “Come in,” says Jaqla. The handle turns, the door swings open. The man who opens it marches inside.

                “Director Jaqla.” He stops and stands at attention. “This is Agent Iroy. I’m here to conduct the interview.”

                The interviewer. She nods at him.

                “You’re here. We’ll be starting in a few minutes, once we’ve finished securing the room.”

                “I’m ready when you are, Director.”

                “Good.” Jaqla crosses her arms. “You understand, this is a very delicate operation. You’re going to need to be very careful with what you say to the subject - no doubt she is a very dangerous woman.”

                “Understood.”

                “She’s been in custody for four hours now. She’ll be unaware of the current news cycle; she’ll likely be upset when she does hear about it.” With a grimace, Jaqla continues. “But you need to inform her of that. She needs to understand that the trouble she’s in won’t go away if she destroys us.”

                “Yes, ma’am.”

                “She needs to work with us.” She picks up her tablet. “There’s enough evidence here to put her away forever; you need to tell her that. You need to make her feel desperate… then, you need to offer her a way out, with us. Can you do that?”

                Iroy nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

                “I hope you can. This is a huge opportunity for our agency, but we have to play our cards perfectly.” From the room, Jaqla hears “All clear!” She glances over, sees the warders filing out of the door, and turns back to him. “That’s your cue. Good luck, agent.”

                He thanks her, then steps away. A few moments later, he appears in the interrogation room. Through the one-way glass, Jaqla watches him pull out a black chair and sit down, take out his own tablet and look down at it, no doubt reviewing the evidence.

                For a moment, it’s deadly silent. A warder slips into the observation room and wordlessly places a magi-orb on her desk before taking a seat behind her. It’s glowing blue - no issues with the wards.

                They’re ready to start.

                Jaqla takes a deep breath, and radios the guards to send the subject in.

                Then she waits. She taps her knuckles on the desk. She checks the magi-orb. She stares at Iroy, stares at him scrolling down the tablet with a finger. The empty chair across from him - she stares at that, too.

                Footsteps. She can hear them before she sees the door open. One guard comes in first, and holds the door open for the other as he escorts a woman into the room.

                A woman.

                A very startling woman, with bright pink hair and slap bracelets on her arm and a knee-length polka-dotted dress… all absolutely _caked_ with blood. She flashes Iroy a winning smile, and her teeth look impossibly white compared to the dark red splatters on her face. Jaqla can see he’s taken aback.

                “Yo! Interviewing guy!” She waves at him while the guards shackle her to the table. “Mizar here. How’s it going!”

                Iroy blinks, once.

                “Just wanna say, I’m a team player! I’m real friendly, I’m a go getter, I’m great at following directions but I also think outside of the box for creative solutions to synergise your enterprise!” With a cackle, she flops down on her chair. “This is the kind of interview we’re doing, right? Hire me for not guilty!”

                “No, no, this isn’t-”

                “Plus, I’m _great_ with animals.”

                She starts stroking something under the table. Jaqla leans forward - is that a…?

                “What have you got there?” One of the guards marches over... then stops dead. “What the hell?”

                “This little guy’s called Fluffy!” The woman shows off the actual dog now lying in her lap. She runs her fingers through its black fur, and grins up at him. “Shhh, he’s asleep. You don’t wanna wake him up.”

                “How did she get a dog in there?” Jaqla radios the guard. “Take that dog away from her! She can’t have it in here!”

                “Aww, why not?” The woman sticks out her lower lip, but doesn’t protest when it’s taken away. “Boo. I don’t want to work at a place that doesn’t like dogs - you can’t fire me, I quit!”

                The guard leaves, and finally, Iroy seems to regain his composure. He clears his throat, and leans forward. “Ma’am, this isn’t a job interview.”

                “It’s not?” She snorts. “Good. Fucking hate interviews. It's like, I gave you my resume, we don’t need to-”

                “Ma’am! You need to stop talking, okay? Listen to me.”

                The woman rolls her eyes. She starts jangling the chain on her arm, loudly.

                “And you need to be quiet… be quiet. I said, be quiet.” A second passes, and Iroy slams his hand against the desk. “ _I said be quiet!_ ”

                “Oooh, we got a feisty one here! Is this good cop bad cop?”

                “This is you shutting up and listening to me, because you’re in a world of trouble, little girl!” He grabs the chain when she starts to swing it again. “We caught you in the middle of a cultist gathering at a barn at eleven o’clock last night with a nail studded bat! There were multiple bodies! _Multiple!_ ”

                The woman looks down, but keeps grinning at the table. “You know, it’s kinda condescending to call a grown woman ‘little girl.’ Makes you look like an asshole.”

                “There’s been a spree of cultist-related killings all across the country within the past seven years! It’s the highest it’s been in centuries, and we have reason to believe you’re behind it! You refounded the Dinner Crew!”

                She shrugs. “Team player.”

                “So you confess!”

                “I mean, not really? I didn’t refound it or anything crazy like that - it just sort of became popular again. Like skinny jeans.” The woman shudders. “Ugh. People worship demons and that’s bad and all, but skinny jeans are the real evil. You know what? I bet there’s a skinny jean demon out there - and a skinny jean cult! Ooh, I’m scaring myself now.”

                Iroy shakes his head. “You’re not taking this seriously. You’ve just implicated yourself in hundreds - if not thousands! - of cultist raids, and we have witnesses that point to you attending a sizeable number of those _personally!_ ”

                “Oh, cool, cool.” She sits back. “So, quick question, I did tell you I’m Mizar, right? These wards you’ve got going are cute, but, uh, I’m basically just screwing around here. My buddy Alcor’s _sky high_ on yggsdrasil right now, but as soon as he comes around, I’m just gonna dip.” She giggles in a deadly silent room. “Dip. Dip nip. Heh, that’s an inside joke. I’d tell you why that’s funny, but then I’d have to kill you.”

                Jaqla pales at the mention of Alcor - she can see Iroy recoiling a little too. She fumbles for her radio.

                “Tell her about all the other crimes we’ve found, too.” She watches Mizar sit up a bit at that. “Tell her about the news report.”

                “News report?” The woman jangles her chain again. “What’s this news report, mysterious radio lady?”

                Iroy nods. “Yes, right. Well, _Mizar_ , when we apprehended you at the barn a couple hours ago, we also discovered a hovercar parked only a mile away from the location, with its trunk still open.”

                Finally, the woman seems to pause at that. She blinks. “Oh.”

                “Yes, ‘oh,’ because we discovered some _very curious_ things in that trunk!” Iroy leans forward. “Several weapons, most of them with bloodstains that we have already sent off to a lab - no doubt we’ll find some _even more curious_ links to other cultist killings that have happened lately! And you know what else we found?”

                She’s not meeting his eyes. “Probably the plates.”

                “The plates? I was going to mention the _actual demonic summoning circle_ in the backseat first but yes, we also found the plates! We ran those, and-” He pauses, and exaggeratedly strokes his chin for a moment. “What did you say your name was again? Mizar?”

                The woman doesn’t respond. He shoots her a nasty grin.

                “Well, I’m not saying that you’re Jessica Strones, a university student who moved into Portland seven years ago - coincidentally _right_ before this uptick in cultist killings happened, huh!” He shakes his head. “But no, I’m not saying that. Do you think I’m saying that?”

                The woman is staring down at her bloody hands. “Uh, don’t I get to have a lawyer, or something?”

                Iroy ignores her. “Well, I’m not saying that. I’m not saying that because you’re not Jessica Strones either, are you? She doesn’t exist.”

                The woman lets out a groan.

                “Oh, come on! I thought you just wanted to screw around!” He cackles. "We’re getting to the good part, alright! Because while Jessica Strones spontaneously appeared in everyone’s records seven years ago, it seems there was a little girl who spontaneously disappeared! A little girl who also used to call herself Mizar and had ties to cultist organisations - how curious!”

                “Please stop.”

                “No. It doesn’t stop, Mizar. You’ve been running your whole life, and now we’re finally catching up to you. We’re not stopping.” Iroy rises up, his grin looming over her. “Are you or are you not a member of the Bloody Dreamers, an illegal and murderous cult of Alcor?”

                The woman trembles at the name. She rocks a little in place and doesn’t respond.

                “You are. Not even just a member - you're their chosen one! A Mizar, born into their ranks!” He steps back, chuckling. “They married you off to Alcor believing they could secure his eternal favour! And now here you are, seven years later, hand in hand with a demon murdering all the other cults that dare to challenge the Bloody Dreamers!”

                She just shakes her head. Iroy laughs.

                “Don’t deny it, little girl. We’ve caught you red handed, and don’t you even think about siccing your demon on us because that’s not going to silence the truth. We, uh…” He makes air quotes. “‘accidentally leaked’ the story to some news reporters - the headlines people are gonna wake up to are juicy! ‘Identity of current Mizar revealed!’ ‘Jessica Strones arrested on multiple charges of cultist-related murder’ ‘Jessica Strones - Portland student, barista, _murderer!_ ’ And you know my favourite one?”

                The woman’s curled up into a ball on her seat.

                “It’s gotta be ‘Mizars, Murder, Matricide: the Truth about So-Called Jessica Stones!’ That's from some online tabloid - I love the alliteration!” He gives another cackle. “Man, you are one messed up little girl, aren’t you? Murdered your own mom when you were twelve years old, and here you are, all grown up and still covered in blood! You like it, don’t you? Sicko.”

                Jaqla watches the woman’s shoulders quiver up and down - she’s sobbing. With a slight frown creasing her face, she radios Iroy.

                “That’s enough. Tell her how how we can still help her, if she cooperates.”

                Mizar glances up at that. Her eyes flit over to the one-way glass… and they narrow. Jaqla knows she can’t see through, but she still checks the magi-orb. No magic detected.

                Iroy clears his throat. “Right. Well, we can both agree you’ve murdered yourself into a bit of a hole, Mizar. But you know what? It’s not too late for you to do the right thing.”

                With a deep, shuddering breath, Mizar raises her head up. She keeps staring over in Jaqla’s direction, not even glancing over at Iroy even as he clears his throat.

                “We can help you, you know. We can relocate you, change your name, give you a nice big house away from all this life-in-prison business, and all you need to do is...”

                Mizar holds her fist out, and extends one middle finger up to point at the one way glass. Iroy shakes his head.

                “You haven’t even heard our one simple condition!”

                She sticks both middle fingers up. Then she tries for a crooked grin.

                “Look,” Iroy walks around to block her from the glass. “You’re a Mizar, and everyone in the world's been trying since the Transcendence to understand exactly what that means! The United Federation's no different. If you could consent to some research, I promise this is going to go a lot better for you.” He crosses his arms. “Even with a demon, what does your life look like if you don’t cooperate? You think people are going to be okay with some serial killer Mizar running around the world?

                “Serial killer?” Mizar manages a shaky snort. “I hunt down human sacrificing cults. I think I'm more of a vigilante.”

                He steps in closer. “It doesn’t matter what you think. You will be hunted down for the rest of your days if you don’t cooperate with us.”

                “Personal space, buddy.”

                “Is it yes or no? What do you- what are you doing?”

                Mizar’s poking at his Adam’s apple. “I could totally strangle you right now. Huh.” She grins at him as he backs away. “Hey, people thinking I’m a serial killer ain’t so bad - I get personal space!”

                He glares back at her. “You need to keep taking this seriously, Mizar. If you aren’t going to help us, we will destroy you.”

                She doesn’t say anything for a moment. She swings the chain on her arm, sniffs and wipes her face, then grins a little wider. She starts to speak.

                “You know, I hate guys like you.” She points at the one way glass. “And you, mysterious radio lady. And guard in the back?” She glances at him. “Eh, you’re alright. But you two guys? Screw you, I’m not helping you.”

                “Then-”

                “Sure, arrest me. And sure, run my plates ‘cause I’m an idiot, ruin my life. You guys are doing your job, I don’t take it personally.” She leans forward, hands gripping the table. “But this? Screw this! You guys don’t know a single thing about me and you don’t care to know either - all you want to do is make me tell you about Mizar! I could be an actual serial killer and you still would’ve offered to let me off the hook! How messed up is that!”

                Iroy shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter-”

                “It does! You think I’m as bad as you say I am and you still wanna work with me? No! Screw you, I’ll go live in a hut in the woods if I have to!” She chuckles. “Or maybe I won’t even live on planet! Off world colonies, baby! I’ll go bounce around the Moon, or Venus, or- no, why am I saying this to you guys? You’re being dumb again, Jessica.”

                Jaqla scowls. “She’s not going to cooperate. Take her away.”

                “Oooh, take me away?” She puts her legs down, and strokes something in her lap. “What do you say about this, Al?”

                The dog - it’s back in her lap. Jaqla watches it yawn, and stretch, and...

_Beep, beep, beep._

                The magi-orb on her desk. It’s turned a sickly shade of yellow and is quickly darkening to a blood red. Her eyes widen - _the wards_!

                “What the hell?” Iroy’s backing away. “How do you have that thing again?”

                “Thing? Naww, this is Al! He's my buddy - my totally platonic buddy, since you guys were making it weird.” Mizar chuckles. “I kinda lied earlier when I said he was called Fluffy. He’s had a _little bit_ too much yggsdrasil from the cultbashing earlier, but he took a nice nap and it looks like he’s feeling better! What do you say, Al?”

                Jaqla fumbles for her radio. “Get out of there! The wards are failing! Get-”

                Al opens one golden yellow eye, and the magi-orb _shatters_. The guard dashes out of the door, and Iroy backs himself into a corner, and Jaqla can only stand there, helpless as the demon fixes its gaze directly on her.

                It growls, and the lights flicker.

                “Aww, you still not totally over it?” Mizar strokes its shadowy fur. “I’m sorry, buddy. You up for a tesser, though? We can go to wherever they put all my stuff - I still have a packet of gummies left in my backpack!”

                Its ears perk up, and she laughs. _Laughs_.

                “Sounds good to me, too. We can sort out this huge mess later.”

                She looks up, then, and stares through the one way glass. Her smile… there’s an edge to it, a shine to it, an awful _something_ that sends shivers down Jaqla’s spine. She pauses for a moment, like she’s thinking, and then shakes her head. She speaks again.

                “I’m not gonna kill you!” _L_ _aughter_ ; it’s downright menacing. “I mean, I could! You guys’ve got a bajillion counts of murder against me already - what’s two more gonna do?”

                Iroy flattens himself even further against the wall, shaking his head. Jaqla is frozen in place, staring at Mizar, hearing her laugh fade out to a sigh, seeing her reach down and start to scratch the demon behind its ears.

                “Heh.” Her voice is quiet, now. “I’m so messed up. I think I’m gonna go now.”

                At that, she stands. The demon stands with her, its form bubbling out into a vaguely humanlike shadow. She’s still shackled to the table; she jangles the chain, and the demon bites it off.

                “Hehe, it’s like a weird bracelet.” There’s still a fair amount dangling from her wrist, and she giggles as she swings it around. “I am so about to to take my eye out with this - I love it! C’mon, Al, let’s go!”

                The demon wraps its shadowy form around her. Jaqla sees the room _twist_ , and then - they’re gone. They’re somewhere else, and she doesn’t know where that is. It could be _anywhere_.

                Iroy sinks to his knees in relief, but Jaqla can’t relax.

                Not when they’re out there. Mizar is supposed to be her responsibility, her project, and now she’s gone. Refused to cooperate, and escaped custody… this could look bad for her.

                She has to make some calls.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for abusive family dynamics.


End file.
